


Late Homecoming

by incomplete_sentence



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-08
Updated: 2016-03-08
Packaged: 2018-05-25 11:18:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6192967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/incomplete_sentence/pseuds/incomplete_sentence
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clarke returns and is confronted by Octavia.  News of the Commander's death finally reaches Arkadia.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Late Homecoming

There was a gentle rush of wind through the trees as Clarke passed into the familiar woods that surround Arkadia. Her eyes found Octavia as she stepped out from the surrounding trees. The look on Octavia’s face was one of disgust, but Clarke couldn’t bring herself to feel anything in response. Clarke absently noticed Indra standing off to the side. The bandage that wrapped her arm did nothing to take away from the imposing figure Indra made. With each step Clarke took, a few more Grounders became visible. Clarke had almost forgotten about the smooth way they could glide through the shadowed spaces between the trees. 

When Clarke came back to herself, Octavia was in front of her, stepping too deeply into Clarke’s space. 

“So, you actually came back. Thanks for deigning us with your presence, oh, mighty Wanheda. You’re a little late.” Octavia’s voice was seething. “It only took them a day, but Pike and my brother have already managed to antagonize the Grounders and make the situation worse. Just like you knew they would. Just like we all knew they would! Pike is threatening to attack the army-“ Octavia gestured around herself at the gathering warriors who began to venture closer with both apprehension and wary aggression, “and you thought it would be more beneficial for our people if you stayed with Lexa an extra day to play house?”

Clarke stands silent as Octavia has her say. Clarke doesn’t have it in her to respond. 

Somehow breathing has gotten so much harder. Clarke can see the outline of Arkadia’s gates in the distance. She’s not afraid of them anymore. She’s not afraid to go back. The pressure that once weighed down on her chest at the thought of returning to her people, of looking them in the eye after her unforgivable actions at Mount Weather, has been replaced with a far heavier hollowness. She’s not sure whether she’s filling or emptying, but there’s no room for guilt anymore – no room for the regret she once held for people who were too weak to save themselves. 

Let them all burn, she thought. She had done enough saving. And then she remembered: I can’t save any of them.

“Did you bring Lexa with you,” Octavia continued, spitting the words out derisively but quietly enough that the nearby Grounders didn’t hear, “or has she decided to sit on the sidelines ag-“

Clarke’s hand flew up in a moment and struck Octavia’s face so fast that Octavia staggered back a few steps. The moment shocked even Clarke for a moment; her eyes widened and she glanced down at her own trembling fist. Her knuckles were white with the strain, but she couldn’t feel anything. Her hand felt numb, stuck. She forced her fingers to release and felt a rush of blood and sensation return to her hand, overwhelming her. She cradled her hand to her chest as pulses of pain lanced through it and took it away, letting her hand fall to her side and shaking out her screaming fingers. Clarke let the pain burn through her for a few seconds, riding the waves of sensation and letting them overwhelm you consciousness. Then, with a sense of calm returning, Clarke lifted her eyes back to Octavia.

Octavia had straightened, a look of quiet fury replacing her shock. Clarke’s gaze drifted downward from Octavia’s angry stare. A line of blood had begun to trail down the corner of Octavia’s mouth. Clarke watched it slide to Octavia’s chin.

Red, Clarke thought, and she suddenly pictured another mouth, someone else’s blood, she remembered someone else’s audible breaths. Unwelcome images raced through her mind one after another, and Clarke gasped out. Her hand flew up to cover the sob ripped that was ripped from her lungs, and tears filled her eyes. She turned from Octavia and started walking, shallow breaths heaving in her chest and the tightness, which had momentarily left her, returning. 

Octavia grabbed Clarke’s arm and yanked her back. Murphy appeared in that moment, sprinting through and around the nearby guards and grasping Octavia’s arms. He managed to tear Octavia’s hand from around Clarke’s arm. The separation was enough for Clarke to step out of Octavia’s reach and continue through the trees. Murphy tried to restrain Octavia’s angry form and keep her from following, but he couldn’t hold her for long. Octavia got a grip on his hand and snapped his wrist at an awkward angle before ducking under his arm and wrenching his captured hand behind his back. Murphy cried out in pain. He made to move himself away but Octavia only pulled his wrist higher in response.

“Stay out of this, Murphy,” she growled into his ear, “or I swear I’ll break your arm.” She looked up then, but Clarke had disappeared. “Where did you even come from?” she seethed, looking back to Murphy. 

“Just leave her alone,” Murphy barked out, “and left me go!” His teeth gritted in pain and anger as he dangled in her hold, bent at the waist and trying not to move for fear of provoking more of the pain that was currently stabbing up his arm. Octavia held on for a moment more before releasing him. She let out a frustrated huff and swiped at the blood on her chin, wincing.

“Clarke’s girlfriend just died,” Murphy told her as he nursed his wrist. Octavia turned to look at him, her eyes moving from his hand to his face. “We had to leave Polis right after. She’s really messed up about it so just…–”

“What are you talking about?” Octavia asked, giving him a quizzical look. “Clarke doesn’t have –” 

But, she realized, Clarke did have. Octavia sucked in a breath as comprehension settled within her. She spun around, searching the trees, but Clarke was nowhere to be seen. A thousand thoughts raced through her head, the most pressing of which was that the Arkers were all as good as dead. Then, another person came to mind, and Octavia’s eyes continued searching until they found Indra. 

One of the recently arrived warriors was speaking privately to her. Octavia couldn’t move as she watched the interaction. 

She knew the moment it happened. Indra’s eyes widened, her head shaking in disbelief. The warrior continue talking. Indra's movements stilled. After a few more words, the warrior bowed his head silently before stepping away and returning to his comrades. Octavia watched as Indra's head tilted up toward the sky. Octavia, breath coming shallowly into her lungs, could only watch. 

Indra swallowed a few times. Her hands were clenched into fists at her side. Her eyes began blinking rapidly, and the slightest of trembles shook Indra's jaw.

Octavia had never seen a warrior cry before.


End file.
